


Customer of Hell

by lildark7



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-19 00:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17591408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lildark7/pseuds/lildark7
Summary: When Vandal thinks his customers can’t get any worse than they already are, he’s definitely proven wrong by who walks into the blood bank on a Monday. He’d take Ventrue attitude over this bullshit any night.





	Customer of Hell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sunfreckle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunfreckle/gifts).



> My attempt to write something a bit more lighthearted.

Vandal checks the clock in his booth which is indicating that it is currently 3 in the morning and that his shift will be over very soon. Thankfully. And hopefully he won’t have any more customers.

As always however, nobody hears his unspoken plea. There are already footsteps on the stairs again.

Vandal looks up a second time from the list he’s reading, this time to check how many blood bags are left in the boxes. He frowns. Tonight is way too busy. He’s going to run out of produce at this rate. Therese will not be pleased if that happens.

A small woman with black hair tied into a ponytail knocks on the window and he turns to serve her.

Malkavian. She has to different colored eyes. One is blue, the other amber. Also, she’s wearing the most ridiculous Halloween police officer outfit he’s ever seen.

“Need a fix?” his voice is cold and emotionless, just as always.

“I want a Capri Sun,” she says.

This is already starting out wonderfully. Another complete lunatic.

“If you want a Capri Sun, head down to the store. Do me a favor and drink it there too, you can get a good laugh at the employee who has to clean up the mess after you threw that right back up,” Vandal retorts deceitfully.

“Down the street doesn’t sell what I want. You have the good stuff,” she smirks.

Vandal sighs. “Do you have money?”

She nods. “Mary says she doesn’t know if it’s enough.” She proceeds to reach down her shirt and pulls a 50 dollar bill from her bra.

“Tell Mary that she needs another 40 bucks.” He hopes that this particular kindred will fuck off immediately now that she’s been told that she doesn’t have enough money.

She pouts. “See? I told you we should have just smashed open that ATM machine!”

“Unless you come back with more money I can’t sell you anything,” Vandal lets her know, already extremely annoyed.

“Okay.”

When she leaves without protest, he’s relieved and he thinks that’s the end of it. That she won’t come back tonight. How wrong he is.

It takes her about 45 minutes to be back at his window, pulling out a stack of dollar bills of all things.

Vandal groans in frustration.

“Mary thinks it’s enough now.” She hands him the 50 dollar bill and the stack. “I asked every person I encountered for a dollar. I even went to that club.”

The possibility that she got enough people to give her a dollar is extremely slim. He doubts the money will be enough.

Aggravated he starts counting. Just as he’s done a thought crosses his mind. Why IS HE counting it? Couldn’t she have done that herself?!

“Did you count it beforehand?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know how.”

What the fuck? That lunatic is either lying to his face or so insane that she is unable to function normally anymore. Somehow he assumes it’s the latter.

“Well, you’re 2 dollars short,” he growls. How she managed to make this much in that short of an amount of time is beyond him.

Her face distorts. She looks like she’s about to cry. She starts sobbing, but spills no tears because she’s physically unable to. “I’m so thirsty! Mary said there are no more people to ask for money. She told me I can’t bite anyone because I will hurt them.” She sinks to her knees, body shaking with sobs.

Vandal stares at her. That’s a first. A crying kindred. He wants her out of the blood bank, now! She’s causing a scene. This reminds him of Jeanette in a way. Although it’s a bit different.

“For god’s sake, get up and calm down. It doesn’t hurt the person who’s being fed on. It feels good.” Under no other circumstances would he have admitted that fact to anyone, especially not a kindred. But his desire to have her out of the blood bank is overruling his sense of pride.

“They will get addicted then,” she keeps crying, but shakily picks herself up from the floor. “That’s just as bad.”

Vandal wants to bang his head into the wall next to the window. Okay, fuck this. He’s gonna pull the 2 dollars for that lunatic from the tips that the staff sometimes get. They’re pooling them in a savings box upstairs. “Fine, know what? I’ll sell you a bag even though you’re short.”

She smiles. “Thank you so much!”

“Let me be very clear. I’ll never do this again. I’m just doing it to get you out of here,” he tells her sourly.

She nods excessively. “Okay. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ll not be short on money again. Promise!”

With a sigh Vandal puts the money away and hands her a single blood bag, making sure to take one of a blood type that’s not running low.

She takes it, then asks, “Can I get a straw?”

“What?” He ‘hates’ her.

“You have those long tube things you drain it with, right?” She looks so innocent when she says it, but Vandal wishes he could rip her head off.

“These are not for sale,” he growls.

“Please?”

How he would love to stake her and leave her out for the sunrise. “No.”

“But you already broke the rules once, can’t you make a second exception?” she whines.

“I can’t.” He wants her to ‘leave’.

“What if I refuse to leave until you give me one?” she threatens.

Mistake. Nobody threatens him. “If you want to wake up the following night, I would advise you to leave. If you’re not, I will call my superior.” He would call Therese. She’d be pissed, yes but she told him that if there was ever trouble he should let her know.

“If you do that she’ll find out you sold to me even though I was short on money,” she sneers.

That bitch! He weighs his option. Pissing off Therese by calling her over this suddenly seems worse than just giving her one of the connection tubes. “Fine! Wait here!”

Vandal stomps off to get to the supply room. He slams the door to his booth shut a bit too forceful. The bang can be heard on the entire floor.

Phil pokes his head out the break room. “You ok man?”

“Yes,” he says, voice oozing venom. “Just pissed off as hell at one of the customers. Remind me to place an order for blood bags and tubes tomorrow.”

“Will do.” With that, Phil disappears again.

Still grumbling, Vandal gets one of the sealed tubes. “Damn Malkavians. I’d take Ventrue arrogance over this bullshit any night.”

He returns to the black haired kindred still holding the bag and hands her the tube. “There. Now leave. And now that I think of it. I’m not gonna sell to you ever again. No more blood for you.”

“I’m sorry. Can I do anything to repay you for the inconvenience?” she asks. She looks like she really is sorry.

Her question gives him an idea. “Yes.”

She opens the sealed tube and connects it to the blood bag and starts drinking, abusing it as a straw.

Vandal continues, “The bitch who owns me, and this place runs the Asylum. Lots of young stupid blood there. Send someone down here to make a donation.” That way he could stay in and have her do all the work.

She nods in agreement. “Okay. I will do that tomorrow.”

Vandal watches her leave, wondering if she will really send someone to their death by telling them to come down here.

She’s already at the stairs when he hears her call down the hall.

“I’ll send the freshest, biggest fish I can find.”

  



End file.
